Death Beyond the Limit: Fiji Islands Mysteries 3

by B. M. Allsopp

  ‘Sure, I understand.’

  Singh switched on the recorder and led the introductions.

  Horseman began. ‘Captain Shen, you’re aware that you need to submit documents at every port you visit during your fishing voyages.’ Shen stared at him, frowning.

  The interpreter translated. ‘Yes, I know. My agent handles all that for me. I’m too busy.’ The captain’s voice was loud and rough, as if dried out by a lifetime of wind and salt spray.

  ‘You supply the information, Captain. It’s your responsibility.’

  Shen shrugged. Singh placed the manifest on the table, pointing to the highlighted name of Semesi Inia. Beside it she placed the enlargement of Jimmy’s passport photo.

  This time he spoke directly to Horseman. ‘Me no savvy.’

  Interesting—he must have picked up some Pidgin in Papua New Guinea or the Solomons. He was willing to say something, at least.

  ‘Captain, this highlighted name is Jimmy Inia, the fishing observer you took on board at Majuro in the Marshall Islands on 26th July. This is his passport photo. Do you recognise him?’

  The captain nodded, grudging.

  ‘But we know he was not on board when you entered Suva. You know this too. This information you supplied to the Fiji government is a lie.’

  The captain continued to frown at Horseman as he listened to the interpreter. His face was expressionless. When he made no reply, Horseman said, ‘Detective Sergeant Singh, explain why the observer did not enter Suva.’

  Singh laid in front of the captain the horrific colour post mortem shot of the head which they now knew to be the head of Jimmy Inia.

  ‘He entered the sea on Friday 8th or Saturday 9th September. His head was found in a tiger shark’s stomach on Sunday 10th September. DNA analysis has now confirmed that this is the head of Jimmy Inia, your fishing observer. No doubt about it.’

  Shaddock paled. He put his hand over his mouth and gulped. Horseman gestured to the door—he didn’t want the man to interrupt the interview with vomiting.

  Singh placed the enlargement of the hand in front of the captain. ‘This hand and pieces of lung washed up on a beach near Levuka last Friday. DNA analysis shows that the hand is from the same person as the head, namely Jimmy Inia, your fishing observer.’

  Next, she passed the evidence bag with the ring to the captain. ‘Do you recognise this ring, sir?’

  Shen examined the ring, his frowning expression unchanging. He shrugged.

  ‘Would you speak for the recording, please sir?’

  Shen spoke directly to the interpreter who translated. ‘He says he doesn’t. He’s seen many silver rings.’

  ‘This ring has been identified as the ring purchased by Jimmy Inia directly from the maker, who works here on Viti Levu,’ Singh informed him.

  ‘What happened to Jimmy Inia, Captain?’ Horseman asked. Shen remained silent, expressionless.

  ‘Let me remind you, Captain, that the safety of everyone onboard your vessel is your responsibility. You must account for the fact that your fishing observer is proven to have died at sea, five or six days before Joy-13 entered Suva. What have you to say?’

  Shen looked at the interpreter while he translated, then turned to Horseman and spoke. Again, his voice was loud and gruff. Perhaps his usual utterances were orders barked at his crew, above the noise of ship engines and the wind. He didn’t look rattled or annoyed. Horseman couldn’t read his frowning face at all.

  The interpreter said, ‘Captain Shen thanks you for giving him this information. He will consult his legal advisor and afterwards make a statement about this matter.’

  *

  Toby Shaddock called Horseman late on Wednesday afternoon. ‘Captain Shen wishes to present you with his statement on board Joy-13 tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock. How does that suit you?’

  ‘If he can’t do so before then, I suppose that’s fine,’ said Horseman. ‘But why on the ship?’

  ‘Despite his taciturn manner, I believe he wants to show you some hospitality. The ship is his domain and he’s very proud of it. He’s asked me to show you around.’

  Taciturn? Shaddock was a master of diplomatic understatement.

  ‘He wants to impress me?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Perhaps he feels more comfortable there.’ Shaddock replied. ‘The truth is he initially refused to return to the police station. His solicitor suggested this compromise and between us, we persuaded him to agree.’

  Really? Horseman would like to have been a gecko on the wall during that conversation.

  ‘Tell him I accept his invitation with thanks. I need to speak to all the crew about Jimmy. Please make sure they’re all present and we can interview them after we’ve spoken to the captain.’

  THURSDAY 21st September

  29

  ‘Have you ever been on a tuna longliner before?’ Shaddock asked after greeting them on the wharf alongside Joy-13.

  ‘Never,’ he said. ‘I’m looking forward to rectifying that today.’

  Sleek and white, bristling with masts, antenna, radar dishes and cranes, the vessel was a different kettle of fish from the small Chinese fishing boats rusting away at anchor in the main harbour. Chinese characters were emblazoned on the bow beside the English name, Joy-13. He wondered if they meant joy or something completely different.

  Captain Shen stood to attention at the top of the gangway. He looked more the part in his white epauletted shirt and his captain’s hat with gold insignia catching the sun. He greeted them with his stiff bow again as they stepped aboard. He spoke to Shaddock in Mandarin. Outdoors, his voice didn’t grate so much.

  Shaddock was the tour guide. ‘The captain wishes you to understand the way his vessel and crew work. The line is set to drift horizontally at a certain depth by attaching floats to it at regular intervals. Come along to the stern and I’ll show you the fishing gear.’

  As they squeezed along the narrow side deck, Shaddock pointed out the location of the freezing compartments below. They passed above the isolated fish hold, which could store chilled fish for a few weeks, the bait store and the powerful engines needed to speed their voyage to distant fishing grounds on the high seas.

  ‘The longline is paid out fast through these plastic pipes, while the crew attach branch lines and buoy lines. Joy-13 has a baiting machine which can bait ten thousand hooks a day. The crew take the bait out of the freezer and let it partially thaw. Then they spike each bait on a conveyor belt which feeds into the machine.’

  ‘How long is the line?’ Horseman asked.

  ‘Usually a hundred kilometres. It takes seven crew five or six hours to set the line, even with the baiting machine. They set radio buoys at intervals so they can find the line at the start of the haul.’ He demonstrated how all the gear was accessed. He flicked a switch and the line paid out. Flicked it again and it retracted.

  ‘Now I know why they call this industrial fishing,’ Horseman said.

  Shaddock smiled, proud. ‘This is where premium sashimi-grade tuna comes from. Vessels like this can process and freeze at minus 60 degrees Celsius. However, the market prizes large, fresh yellowfin or bigeye tuna above all else. You can multiply the average price for frozen, smaller fish by ten. At least. That’s why Joy-13 docked at Suva on Friday. Captain Shen had a chiller hold full of prime quality bigeye and yellowfin. We offloaded them and they flew to Tokyo that night, sold at Tsukiji market Saturday morning. He’s a happy man.’

  What would Shen look like when he wasn’t happy?

  ‘The crew take a break for several hours, then it’s all hands on deck for the haul. At least eleven hours for fifteen men to land, gut and wash the fish, clean and stow the gear. It’s hard, hard work. These guys are tough. They feed the world’s billions, they do. And TTF enables them to do it.’

  ‘Vinaka vakalevu, Mr Shaddock. This has been an eye-opener. Is Captain Shen ready to give us his statement now, do you know?’

  Shaddock smiled. ‘He’ll be waiting for us on the bridg
e. Let’s go now.’

  As they returned to the vessel’s midsection, Horseman looked up and asked, ‘What are all these masts for?’

  ‘All sorts of communications, radar and navigation systems. Finding fish is science now. It can’t be left to luck.’

  Captain Shen was waiting on the bridge beside an array of lifeless screens. Horseman noticed one was lit up and went over to look at it more closely.

  ‘Why is this one blinking?’ he asked.

  The captain barked at Shaddock who nudged Horseman’s elbow.

  ‘Captain Shen prefers you not to lean over the equipment, Inspector. You could accidentally trigger controls and we might ram the next boat, or the wharf or something.’ Shaddock was trying to make light of the captain’s clear annoyance or fear. Which was it?

  He smiled and stepped back. ‘Of course, my apologies. Let’s sit down and we can consider Captain Shen’s statement.’

  The captain indicated fixed benches either side of what Horseman supposed was the chart table. Did such vessels even have real charts? Was there any paper on the bridge at all? They sat and both detectives set their notebooks on the table in front of them.

  A steward in a white shirt served everyone green tea in china bowls.

  The captain handed a slim document in a plastic sleeve to Shaddock and barked at his agent some more. Shaddock smiled in apology to the detectives. ‘Captain Shen makes this statement on the advice of his solicitor, who has translated his account of relevant events on Joy-13 into English. He wishes me to read it to you word for word before giving you both hard copies.’

  What was the point in dragging it out like this? ‘Go ahead then. As the captain wishes.’ Horseman nodded to Captain Shen. They all sipped tea.

  Shaddock took a single page out of the envelope.

  ‘We hauled in a line in the EEZ north-east of Viti Levu on 8th September. The fishing observer Semesi Inia, known as Jimmy, didn’t appear in the mess room for the evening meal at 1730. His colleagues didn’t worry at first as they assumed he was working in his cabin or sleeping. At about 1900 I was notified that Jimmy could not be found onboard. I ordered a thorough search of the vessel. Crewmen reported Jimmy’s life vest and emergency beacon were in his cabin. By this time it was dark and there was no chance of finding a man in the sea who did not have this safety equipment. Nevertheless, I turned around and slowly retraced the course of the last several hours, sounding the horn and sweeping the lights over the water. At 2130 I concluded Jimmy had been lost overboard and resumed my previous course.

  ‘I acknowledge that under the regulations I should have reported the Man Over-Board (MOB) incident by radio. However, I knew I would not be able to meet my catch target before I needed to dock in Suva to offload my fresh bigeye tuna. My priority was to minimise my turnaround time in port. I don’t have the time to be detained in Suva for prolonged formalities for a MOB report. I now regret not complying with my legal obligations to report a MOB incident.’

  Horseman’s instinct was to shout just like the captain. No, his instinct was to explode. He took a deep breath instead.

  ‘This is unbelievable, Captain. Unbelievable. If no one witnessed Jimmy fall overboard, I understand that your report may have been unavoidably delayed by some hours. But whenever your report was received, our coast guard and navy would have immediately mounted extensive searches. How could you write off a man’s life like that? A man who has been a fellow voyager for an entire month!’

  The noise produced by the captain was like the warning growl of a threatened dog. He then shouted at Shaddock in rapid Mandarin. Again, Shaddock looked apologetic.

  ‘Captain Shen says there was no point searching. The observer must have been dead already.’

  ‘You can’t know that, Captain. There are amazing records of people surviving and being rescued after a much longer time in the sea than a few hours. You’re looking at criminal charges that will detain you in port much longer than if you had reported the accident as the law requires.’

  Another ear-splitting barrage from the captain, which Shaddock translated. ‘Joy-13 was in the open sea, outside the 12-mile limit. Fiji has no jurisdiction over my vessel.’

  For the first time, the captain cracked a smile. His right front tooth was missing. He gaped, throwing his head back. A sinister cackle erupted, chilling Horseman.

  30

  Horseman and Singh stood on the deck below the bridge, literally thinking on their feet.

  Horseman simmered. ‘What if he’d been a truck driver and left someone for dead on the road and failed to report it? His action was criminal.’

  ‘I agree, but perhaps the maritime law is different.’

  ‘Not really. It’s still a criminal act. Not to mention perverting the course of justice by lying to us yesterday. That’s a crime that was within our jurisdiction for sure. We can persuade him to come to the station for another interview or we can arrest him. Once he’s off the ship, the crew will talk more freely. I bet they’re intimidated, the way he barks all the time.’

  ‘We’re not quite ready to conduct the most effective interviews yet. I could go through the crew list with Shaddock and ask his advice about which interpreters the crew will need.’

  ‘How about we work it out ourselves from the Immigration information? I prefer not to work too closely with Shaddock. I’m not sure he knows which side he’s on.’

  ‘Okay, let’s try that,’ Singh agreed.

  ‘Or we could do it the other way around. Leave the captain here and take the crew to the station for interview. They’d be protected from his threats there.’

  Singh thought about this. ‘They could feel even more frightened, sir. Some of them come from countries where citizens avoid police stations at all costs.’

  Considering the options, he moved to the gangway and looked down at the wharf. Musudroka and Kau were there, trying not to look like police, and four uniforms provided a visual presence, two near the bottom of the gangway, the others at either end of the vessel.

  ‘Excuse me, please.’

  The voice was smooth, educated, with a strong Chinese accent. He turned. This was no fisherman. His bulky build and pudgy face wouldn’t survive the onslaught of long hours of physical labour and exposure to the elements. His body would have morphed to lean muscle and tough skin.

  ‘Bula, sir. I’m Detective Inspector Horseman and this is Detective Sergeant Singh. Are you a crew member on this vessel?’ Singh stepped forward with the crew list.

  The man stared at them, unblinking. ‘No, I’m visiting the vessel on business. Please excuse me.’ He started to move past Horseman, leading with a shoulder as if to squeeze through the gap, but Horseman planted his feet apart so the man couldn’t get off the ship without knocking him down.

  Singh spoke up. ‘We need to see your passport, sir. Unless your name is on this crew list, of course.’ She brandished her clipboard, smiling.

  ‘Why would it be on the crew list? I’ve said I’m visiting on business. I don’t carry my passport on me. Too dangerous. You should do more about stolen passports, you know.’ He flicked his head up, dismissing them.

  Horseman enjoyed playing the plod at times. He smiled politely. ‘Do you work for TTF, sir?’

  ‘TTF? No, I don’t.’ He sounded a little irritated but his face was unperturbed. Expressionless, even.

  ‘It’s just that I understood TTF handles all the business in port for Joy-13.’

  The man was silent.

  ‘Well, Sergeant Singh will take your details down now, sir. You can bring your passport to Suva Central Police Station any time today before six o’clock for confirmation.’

  ‘What? Why? I’m much too busy to do that.’

  ‘Just procedure, sir. The Joy-13 is now under police guard. Anyone boarding or disembarking must register with us. Sergeant Singh?’

  ‘I comply under protest. Make a note of that. Be sure I will complain to the Chinese Embassy about this abuse.’

  Singh smiled. �
�That’s your right, sir. Here’s my card with the station address and numbers. Now, your name?’

  ‘Mao Li.’

  ‘Could you fill in your address, Mr Li?’ Singh handed him the clipboard. He scribbled quickly.

  Horseman didn’t believe the details the man gave would prove genuine. He wouldn’t turn up to the station with his passport, either. This message was for Captain Shen and Shaddock as much as for the mystery visitor. He stepped aside to allow the man to leave Joy-13. Kau took several photos of him as he descended to the wharf.

  ‘I’d be happier with a formal crime scene set up here, but we’ll have to make do with guards for now. I hate to do it, but we’ll need to postpone interviewing the crew, even if just for a few hours.’

  ‘I agree that’s best, sir.’

  ‘Okay, can you go through the passport and Immigration card info and figure out the languages of the crew? It won’t be a hundred per cent accurate but it will be quick. Then organise the interpreters. Take Kau and use him for the grunt work.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Her mouth turned down. ‘It’d be quicker if I did it myself.’

  ‘I know, but we’ve got to bring the DCs up to speed.’

  She grimaced again. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re a great teacher, too.’

  ‘Flattery, sir.’ But her green eyes sparkled like sunlit water. She seemed to be getting back to her old self.

  ‘I’ll check if the search warrants are through yet. Until we’ve got them, I don’t want to ask the captain’s permission to search the ship—I wouldn’t get anywhere, the mood he’s in now. But he has no right to Jimmy’s possessions. I think all I can do for Jimmy’s family and Salome is to insist on retrieving those now. Ash and his SOCOs are standing by to pounce the moment we get those warrants. Pray that the magistrate signs them before he takes his lunch break.’

  ‘I’ll work out the interpreters we’ll need.’

  ‘Ask the super to snaffle another DC from somewhere and get him down here.’

  *